


Prologue: Dies Illa

by Fox



Series: Missa Discriminis [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-09
Updated: 2000-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox/pseuds/Fox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am not now, nor have I ever been, George Lucas.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Prologue: Dies Illa

**Author's Note:**

> I am not now, nor have I ever been, George Lucas.

As long as she might live, Knight Joma Phrel would always wonder what had inspired the Jedi Council to assign her to this particular creche rotation. She'd always liked the children, but as readily as she had gotten along with them, she never felt quite as at ease with their parents. She sighed. Whatever it was she was feeling, she must be exuding some sort of trust-and-comfort pheromone; the parents were always very relaxed around her, and the Porgatians were no different.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. They were undeniably _different,_ the Porgatians. No more different than a lot of other non-human species, she supposed, but there was a lot of room for difference. Their portion of their homeworld had very little dry land, but was dense with vegetation and liberally crossed with rivers. A non-winged tree-dwelling people, they had naturally selected for prehensile hands and feet and webbed fingers, the better to hang from low branches and fish in the water. They had blunt little snoutlike noses, vestiges from their insect-rooting ancestors, and large ears and eyes, grown accustomed to the faraway sounds and filtered light of the forest. Those who moved to Coruscant, therefore, usually became effectively nocturnal; moving about at night was far more comfortable for their heightened senses.

But even less usual were their mating habits. While most species existed in two sexes and required one of each to procreate, some could reproduce from same-sex couples and some did it on their own, each individual carrying all the genetic material necessary to regenerate. The Porgatians, on the other hand, had three sexes -- called, in admittedly humano-centric terms, male, female, and comale -- and could only breed in groups of those three. So the child on the bench at her side had a father, a mother, and a tether; and, although she had been briefed and knew the appropriate pronouns, Knight Phrel decided to address each adult directly as much as possible when they arrived.

"Joma! Hey, Joma!"

Phrel and the Porgatian child turned toward the clear young voice, and after only a moment, a red-haired child came barreling around a corner in the garden path and flung herself into Joma's arms. "Skies, Sion, what are you about today?" Joma asked with a laugh.

Sionnach apVess-Norill squirmed from Joma's lap and sat next to her. "I could tell you were here. 'Cause the matrons said I could play outside 'cause Ki -- _Qui_ and _Obi_ are coming home today and I get to go see them. 'Cause they've been away a long time, on a mission, but now they're back and I get to visit them for three days. Only now they're still with the Council so I didn't see them yet. And Ani's with them too. But Joma?"

Joma had a sudden and very vivid impression of how her creche masters must have felt when she was a child. "Yes, Sion?"

The girl lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. "I don't think Ki -- _Qui_ \-- likes the Council very much."

The Knight chuckled. "No, Sion, I expect Qui-Gon doesn't like the Council at all. Obi-Wan either. And you know something?" She leaned forward to share her secret. "I don't like them myself."

"But I _like_ Master Adi," Sion protested. "And Master Yoda and Master Mace --"

"Oh, we like all the Council _members,_ sweetheart," Joma reassured her. "It's the bunch of them _together_ we're not crazy about. I bet they don't even like _being_ the Council."

Sionnach thought about this for a moment. "This is one of those things I'm going to understand when I'm bigger, isn't it?"

"If ever, Sion, yes." Joma ruffled the girl's hair.

Sion seemed to process this, and quickly returned to her previous topic. "But then when they're done with the Council they'll come get me and I get to go stay with them three whole days, 'cause Obi always says they never know when's the next time they might get called away, but I'm supposed to play outside and practice moving stuff until they get here. Will you play with me?"

"Oh, Sion, I'd love to," Joma said sincerely, "but I'm waiting here to meet someone. Actually, if you need something to do, and you want to tell Master Gallia what a big help you were, you can take care of Alydr for a bit while Master Jen'reth and I speak with her parents. Can you do that for me?"

Sion hopped off the bench and looked pleasantly at the Porgatian toddler seated next to Joma. Alydr was smaller than a human two-year-old, barely half a meter high, with silvery-green skin and large, startlingly alert eyes. "Sure. Come on, Alydr. We have fish -- wanna see?"

"Careful, Sionnach," Joma called as the two children scampered away. "You know you can't breathe underwater, and neither can she."

"I know," Sionnach called back -- and they disappeared from view.

When they were gone, Joma closed her eyes and concentrated on the trio coming to meet her. They had arrived at the temple in the middle of the night, a tight, worried family group by the name of Rhyi'nak, all three parents driven nearly to distraction by what they described as "something peculiar" about their daughter. She was unusually strong for her age and size, they said, and impossibly strong-willed -- not stubborn, like other children, but somehow persuasive, though she was barely two years old and spoke very little. It hadn't occurred to them to bring the girl to the Jedi until an acquaintance of theirs had mentioned it -- none of the parents, as far as they had ever known, had any family history of Force-sensitivity. The group had been ushered into a suite of rooms upon their arrival, and in the morning Joma and Master Jen'reth had retrieved Alydr for a day of observation. Joma had noticed the child's presence the minute she was in the room with her, but carried out the routine of tests and demonstrations just the same. She had concluded, and Master Jen'reth had concurred, that the girl was remarkably sensitive to the Force -- which meant her parents had to be met for The Talk.

She heard them coming, and rose. Around the corner, hand in hand in hand, came Alydr's parents, in animated conversation with Master Jen'reth. Joma felt herself relax. The guests were calm and unruffled. That had been the hope, of course; she always worked with another Jedi, one from the visiting family's own species, when outsiders brought their children for testing, but the success of this ingratiating maneuver varied. On this group, though, it had worked splendidly. Master Jen'reth, a male of early middle years -- his padawan had only recently been named a knight -- smoothly directed the trio onto a bench facing Joma, and took a seat next to her with a smile. "Good afternoon," she said warmly, nodding and touching her forehead in the Porgatian ritual greeting. "I hope you have all had a pleasant day, but I have no illusions about your wishing to prolong the formalities. You want to talk about your daughter." The parents looked at one another with half-guilty smiles. "Let's begin by having you tell us what you know about the Force."

Drlyan, the mother, cleared her throat. "Ah ... well, it's a power, isn't it? Only Jedi have it."

"And it helps them -- you -- be wise and strong," added Thijrn, the father.

"But -- well, I'm not sure exactly what you're asking us," said Drlyan. "It's a -- there's that program on the holonet, Life Binders --"

"Light Minders," the third -- Hsad, the tether -- corrected her.

"-- where they say the vidcams follow the Jedi all the time for however many rotations it is, but it doesn't say too much about the Force."

"It's all fixed anyway," Hsad murmured.

"But is it in the air, and you can catch it, or in your blood, and you can feel it?" asked Thijrn.

"All right, that's a good start," Joma grinned. "To tell the truth, we Jedi often run into the same sorts of problems when we try to nail down a specific definition of the Force. As near as we can tell, it's something like both those things you mentioned, Thijrn; there's a gene that, when it's active, makes an individual receptive to the Force energy that's around all of us. It's around you and between you now," she added, seeing the three of them look, startled, over their shoulders and above their heads, "but as none of you is sensitive to it, you can't see it or feel it or perceive it in any way. And that's fine," she went on quickly. "In fact, you might say that's _normal._ Non-sensitivity to the Force is certainly the dominant variation, and the most common. You of course know all this, given that none of you has any Force-sensitivity anywhere in your lineage, right?" All three nodded. "Well. The miracles of statistics have collaborated to give you a daughter who _is_ Force-sensitive. That's what was causing those peculiarities you noticed -- her perception of the Force is just beginning to manifest, which is right on schedule, given her age. A lot of parents bring us babies, and ask us to test them, and we have to ask them to return when the child is right around two standard years old -- younger than that it's not possible for us to determine.

"Anyway, though, you're right if you're thinking that the odds of this happening in your family were extremely long. But every so often it happens -- a non-sensitive family has a Force-sensitive child. Sometimes it even goes the other way; non-sensitive children are born into entirely Force-sensitive families. And those parents are just as surprised as you are, believe me," she said, smiling. "But the thing is this: your daughter is not merely Force-sensitive. She's what we call an Adept -- it's a special, particularly intense sensitivity to the Force that is very, very rare. I can only think of one living Adept older than I am, and younger than myself there's just one or two -- and there are thousands and thousands of Jedi, as you know.

"So. What you need to decide is whether or not you wish to leave Alydr here with us, to let us raise her and train her. I don't know how much Master Jen'reth explained to you of our education and training system, but briefly, children between the ages of two and about thirteen live here at the main temple in the creche, all together. They take their elementary and intermediate training together, and -- right, then, you've covered this," she said when the Rhyi'naks nodded. "Then, when a child reaches adolescence, he apprentices himself to a master in one of the specific disciplines -- negotiations, healing, agriculture, aviation, and so on -- depending on his interests,  
his skills, and his rapport with the masters. All Jedi have some training in all areas," she clarified, "but usually specialize in just one.

"Now, this is very important," Joma went on carefully. "Children in the creche are considered to be children of the temple. We, the residents of the main temple, become those children's family. Their parents and siblings are permitted occasional visits -- and actually, in that respect you're much more fortunate than a family from, say, any Rim world, being that the creche only exists here at the main temple and you live here on-planet -- but even children whose parents are themselves Jedi don't see them more than a couple of times in any given year. Proximity to the creche has nothing to do with frequency of visits." She paused to gauge their reaction to this policy. "Is that clear?" she asked cautiously.

All three parents nodded again. "Good. Now, your other option is to take Alydr home with you, and raise her yourself and pretend today never happened. And we won't try to talk you out of doing that, but there are some things it's only right to tell you, that we as Force users know and you as non-users have no reason to know yet." She took a breath; getting through this next bit -- without subliminally broadcasting her deep-seated belief that the temple was where such children belonged -- was always difficult. "Your child is, in a fundamental and unalterable way, not like other children. This has been known to cause problems when children interact and socialize. Furthermore, your child is not like you. Raising her will be, for all three of you, an unprecedented challenge; almost nothing your own parents did with you will be useful with her. For the next several years, her strength in the Force will grow faster than she will, and for even longer than that, she'll have little, if any, control over her abilities." Joma paused to let all this sink in. "Without trying to persuade you to leave Alydr here with us, folks, there's a reason such a high proportion of parents of Force-using children elect to have us raise them. Simply stated, we're equipped to handle them in ways that few normal families are." Hsad and Thijrn looked conflicted and distressed. Drlyan seemed just to be processing all the information for later consideration. "And finally, Republic law mandates that I inform you that the Jedi are not the only organized group of Force users in the galaxy. We are the only group officially recognized by the government, however -- and I'm sure some of these other unregulated groups are fine, but many of them are manipulative and very dangerous, so if you choose to keep Alydr with you, it will be very important that you never speak of her Force sensitivity to anyone, including to her. For that reason, we administer a suggestion that -- no, Thijrn, don't worry, it's painless -- that very gently nudges the memories of these few days to the very back of your mind where they won't get out and hurt anyone."

Joma smiled engagingly. The Rhyi'naks made credible attempts to smile back. "Bet you're wishing it'd just been something she ate, eh?" she said sympathetically. "We get families in here all the time who think their kids must be Force-sensitive and they turn out to be just plain hyperactive. Nothing we can do for them except recommend some behavioral specialists and a couple of drugs, and they're always so disappointed. But they're not faced with the kind of choice you are."

"Can we -- I mean -- when do we decide? Now?" Thijrn choked.

"No, no," said Master Jen'reth, speaking for the first time. "Alydr should be nearby, with one of the children from the creche, I believe. You collect her and have a pleasant evening, all of you together in your rooms, and tomorrow around noonmeal you let us know what you've decided. The _last_ thing we want is for you to hurry with this -- Knight Phrel didn't mention it, but because of the nature of the creche and the training process, decisions really need to be final. So we want you to be sure." He stood, and the Rhyi'nak family shakily got to its feet. "Why don't we find your girl," he said kindly, "and I'll come back with you if you have any more questions." That was  
what they needed. The Rhyi'naks were handling the entire affair with a calmness Joma could tell they did not feel. Everything about the Jedi was new and strange to them. But Master Jen'reth was their people, a link to the reality they knew; as long as they stayed with him, things didn't seem _too_ surreal. She'd seen it a hundred times before.

The Rhyi'naks nodded. Master Jen'reth nodded to Joma in turn, and both inhaled deeply and closed their eyes. Rather than seeking Alydr, Joma reached out for Sionnach, whose presence was clearer and much more familiar; the children were just where Sion had said they'd be, on a footbridge over the shallow pond. The five adults found both of them lying on their bellies, chins resting on their folded hands, looking intently at several fat orange fish that hovered just below the surface of the water and seemed to be staring right back. "See," Sion was saying, "now pretend you have a third arm, and reach really slowly and just ... tickle his chin like that." There was a pause while neither child moved; then one of the fish seemed, if possible, to smile. It rolled over twice and swam back to grin at Alydr. "Good! See how easy?" She looked up when she sensed the adult presences behind her. "Joma! Look how many!" She pointed to the fish.

"I see. Well done. Sion, you know Master Jen'reth, right?"

"Yes." The girl scrambled to her feet and bowed hastily. "I am happy to see you again, Master Jen'reth."

The Porgatian master winked as he solemnly returned the bow. "And I you, Sionnach. Did Anakin teach you that?"

Sionnach beamed and nodded. "He says it makes me seem more grown up."

"That it does," Master Jen'reth laughed. "Hsad, Thijrn, Drlyan, this is Sionnach apVess-Norill, one of our elementary trainees. Sionnach, these are your friend Alydr's tether, father and mother, Hsad, Thijrn, and Drlyan Rhyi'nak."

"I am glad to meet you," Sionnach said with a much calmer bow.

Hsad crouched down to speak to her. "You live here in the temple, Sionnach?"

"Yes --" the child paused for a moment, glanced to Joma, seemed to panic. Joma bit her tongue. The one to speak to Sionnach would have to be the comale, whose honorific she had never needed to know before. But then, smoothly, Sion recovered, pretended just to have been surprised by the question, and went on, "Yes, I've lived here all my life. I'm seven," she clarified, as if the lack of this information would be a serious detriment to the Rhyi'naks.

"All your life?" Thijrn asked. "You were born here?"

"Um," Sionnach said, screwing up her face and trying to remember what she had been taught.

Joma stepped to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Sionnach's parents were Jedi who were negotiating in a war zone when she was born, and did not survive," she explained. "Her godfather brought her back; there was never any question of her living anywhere else."

"I see. So you like it here?" The father was unhappy, Joma could tell; it seemed he was not convinced that life among the Jedi was the best choice -- or even a good choice -- for his daughter. Her instinct was to reach out and try to set his mind at ease; she resolutely suppressed it.

Sionnach shrugged good-naturedly. "Sure. It's my home."

Thijrn's jaw had tightened to the point that he could barely speak. "Come, Alydr," he said slowly, taking his daughter by the hand and pulling her towards the family.

"Well," said Master Jen'reth. "It must be time for latemeal by now. We can talk when we get to your rooms." Hsad smiled at Sionnach and bowed to her, then stepped back to join the family. "Thank you, Trainee apVess-Norill, and thank you, Knight Phrel. No doubt we'll see you tomorrow for noonmeal." The master bowed and the party meandered away, Alydr waving to Sionnach from her tether's arms.

Joma ruffled the little girl's hair when the visitors had gone. "Well done, Sionnach," she said. "Remind me to tell your masters how well you handled that."

"I didn't know what to say!" Sion exclaimed, wide-eyed. "I should have said yes sir."

"No," Joma assured her, "what you did was just right. I didn't get to tell you before. Comale Porgatians are called 'torr' to be polite. But you didn't know that. You did exactly the right thing."

"And it was okay that I taught Alydr to tickle the fish?"

"It was probably a lot of fun. Did you figure out how to do that yourself?" They turned and walked slowly in the direction of the temple.

"Uh-uh. Morgesh taught me, a long time ago. He knows lots of stuff 'cause he's eleven," she said earnestly. "He has his own master now, so he doesn't live with us any more, but he's still my friend. Oooh, Joma! Can we go to the rec garden instead of back inside? I'm supposed to play outside and practice moving stuff until Ki gets back, remember?"

"Um ... sure, sure," Joma said, suddenly distracted by a thought that she hadn't managed to process before it got away. Something was odd about something around her, something Sion had said ... but it didn't feel dangerous, and she was sure it would strike her again, if it was important. "Yes, Sion, let's go to the rec garden. I've been inside too much lately, too."

"And Felad and Syanna and Mik are there, now, too," Sion said happily, skipping ahead of Joma on the path. "Yay!"

Joma followed her, still trying to think what it was she had heard that seemed so wrong.

* * *

Qui-Gon Jinn closed his eyes and rolled his head around to stretch his neck. Nothing completed a long assignment like debriefing the Council immediately, without the chance to unpack or eat or even bathe. Ah, fortunately, though, this time the report had been straightforward and the Council easy to please, and while Obi-Wan and Anakin had gone home directly after the meeting, Qui-Gon had won the toss, so he took a detour to retrieve Sionnach. Homecoming was always a relief, but Qui-Gon had been looking forward to this one particularly as a sort of reward; it had been close to a year since they'd had any contact with Sionnach beyond just passing in the halls, and the prospect of having her home for three solid days lightened his step as he sought and found her presence and turned toward the recreational garden.

The air in the rec garden was filtered against the fumes of the city-planet, but it was well-circulated through the forest and lake gardens, so the breeze was always fresh and pleasant, never stale. Qui-Gon inhaled deeply when he stepped outside, and, after letting his eyes adjust to the bright light, spotted Sionnach seated on the lawn with three other children younger than herself, concentrating intently on something he could not see. Obi-Wan's old friend Joma was on a bench nearby, watching the children with a sort of sternly confused knit in her brow. Qui-Gon waved to her; she smiled and waved back, but immediately turned her attention back to the trainees. Qui-Gon took a seat next to her and tried to see what she was looking at. "Look at the wind," she said, sensing his puzzlement.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, concentrated on the breeze ruffling his hair and nudging his robes, and opened them again, looking back at the children. He could feel his eyes widen in astonishment; hovering between them, invisible to the eye but clearly apparent when the wind flowed around it, was a large model of a molecule, built from air. As he watched, the two youngest children, in turn, without physically moving a hair, shaped two more atoms and placed them carefully; Sionnach and the fourth child slowly rotated the model so they could build on another branch. Qui-Gon turned to look at Joma.

"Sion found them here an hour ago," she said, "and they've just been building different shapes out of the air ever since." She quirked a wry smile. "The matrons told her to practice moving stuff."

"But ... are they ..."

"Adepts. All of them. That little one isn't even three." Joma made a face. "The only Adept I know of older than myself is whatshername, that Master, and she's, what, past fifty?"

"At least. And you ..."

"I'm thirty-four. Anakin is sixteen. Morgesh Kwahl is eleven. Sionnach is seven. Felad here is five, Syanna is just gone four, and Mik is almost three. There are two more Adepts in the creche besides them, little ones, and while I've been on this assignment two families have brought us Adepts but then taken them home again, and another family is here now with a two-year-old. They'll let us know their decision tomorrow."

Qui-Gon could think of nothing to say. He let this news bounce around in his mind for a bit. "That's a lot of Adepts," he finally said with a slight yawn and a shiver.

"Yes it is," said Joma after a moment, still looking -- but somehow distantly -- at the children in front of her.

There was another moment of silence. "Coincidence?"

Joma looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "I don't think either of us thinks that, Master Jinn," she said.

Qui-Gon absently raised a hand and scratched the scar on his breastbone through his tunics. "Anyone else aware of this?"

Joma had a length of her hair twirled around one finger. "Doubt it. I just noticed it myself, because they were all together."

"We should let someone know. Any idea what it means?"

"Several. None of them pleasant."

"I imagine." Qui-Gon watched the children for another moment before speaking again. "Perhaps you'd like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening, Knight Phrel," he said, pretending to sound casual. "We'll have Yoda and Adi to join us as well. Celebrate our homecoming with a few friends."

Joma raised both eyebrows before nodding with a grim smile. "That sounds delightful, Master Jinn," she said, emphasizing 'delightful' with a topspin that made it clear she was not looking forward to discussing the implications of this phenomenon.

"Excellent. Then," he said, standing and moving towards the group of children, "I think I'll be off home." He sneaked up behind Sionnach; one of the younger children noticed him there, but obeyed his gestured instruction to keep still. "But not before I pick up my firefly!" With this, he scooped up his godchild, laughing at her shriek of surprise, and tickled her until she regained control of her reactions and threw her arms around his neck. "There, Sha," he murmured, holding the little girl close. "I'm glad to see you, too, my lovely."

"Obi and Ani came too, right?" she said into his shoulder.

"Obi and Ani are home already, getting the place prepared for your visit," Qui-Gon answered, setting her down and tapping her nose. "Shall we go meet them?" Sionnach nodded vigorously, seized Qui-Gon's hand, and set to pulling him with all her childish strength toward the temple. "See you tomorrow, then, Joma," Qui-Gon called over his shoulder with a grin. "Eighth hour. Sion, love, we needn't hurry. Obi-Wan and Anakin aren't going anywhere. Suppose you walk normally and tell me what you've been up to lately in your classes?"

Sionnach had talked about her classes, her friends, and the Porgatian candidate Alydr throughout the walk home and all through dinner. Her entire adoptive family had put her to bed, Obi-Wan and Anakin being as delighted to have her home as Qui-Gon. Anakin had gone out to meet some friends soon after, leaving Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan alone in the apartment. Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan could perceive the tension he was feeling, but hesitated to explain its basis. He felt a little foolish, being so unsettled by a larger-than-average population of Adepts at the temple. What if there were a high proportion of red-haired children? He wouldn't be worried for Sionnach in that situation.

They washed the dinner dishes in silence; Obi-Wan reached out to comfort Qui-Gon, carefully subduing his curiosity, and Qui-Gon realized for the hundredth time that day how fortunate he and Obi-Wan were to have found each other. They did not speak as they washed and changed for bed, and Qui-Gon silently thanked the Force that his bondmate had recognized the need to let him come to the issue in his own time. "I've invited Joma and some other people for dinner tomorrow," Qui-Gon called from the 'fresher as he braided his hair for the night.

"Oh? That should be pleasant," Obi-Wan said, sounding a bit guarded. Qui-Gon stuck his head out the door. The other man sat, cross-legged and bare-chested, in the center of the bed. He would only lie down to sleep when Qui-Gon was at his side -- a habit that had carried over from high-risk missions in the field, where it was only safe to go to sleep once you knew your partner could see you. In home life, it was less cautious than endearing.

"I hope so," Qui-Gon said earnestly. "There's a bit of a situation we'll have to discuss, but I hope it will turn out to be nothing so we may all just enjoy one another's company." He tied off the plait and flicked off the 'fresher light. Obi-Wan scooted over as Qui-Gon came into the bedroom. "It seems that the number of Adepts in the order has been growing disproportionately for several years, without our knowing it. So of course --"

"Qui!" Obi-Wan interrupted. "What in the worlds have you _done?_"

Obi-Wan's gaze was fixed on Qui-Gon's scar. In the seven years since Naboo, it had faded to a mere pale disc, barely noticeable to the eye -- but now, as Qui-Gon strained to look at it, it was pink and swollen at the edges, the skin around it an angry, streaky red. "Force," Qui-Gon muttered. "I must not have noticed how much I was scratching it. It's been itching all day, now that I think of it -- must have been bothering me more than I thought."

"It looks horrible," Obi-Wan whispered. "Should we call someone? Do you feel pain? Is it possible --"

"I'm sure it's nothing," Qui-Gon said softly, tipping Obi-Wan's chin up to look at him. "Just some minor irritant. There's nothing wrong, it's not infected, I've just been scratching at it a bit."

"I want it not to look like that," Obi-Wan said, sleepily unconvinced, as he snuggled close to Qui-Gon and laid his head over the scar, over Qui-Gon's heart. "Want you well."

"I am well, my Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured. He dropped a kiss on the top of Obi-Wan's head. "I am well." Obi-Wan's presence had already begun to drift across the bond and soothe the discomfort in his chest, around his scar. Qui-Gon sighed and wrapped his arms around his lover, holding him close and settling back to sleep. That was it. Nothing to worry about. It had just been bothering him more than he'd thought.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was talking to Terri Hamill, in the summer of 2000, and railing about the persistent nugget of fanon in TPM that seemed to maintain that if Qui-Gon Jinn had survived, and if he had trained Anakin Skywalker, Anakin would never have turned and All This would never have happened. In the first place, of course, All This could have happened even if Anakin hadn't turned; but in the second place, as much as I like Qui-Gon Jinn, the canonization of the guy had reached truly absurd levels and was, frankly, really annoying. I determined to write something where Qui-Gon survived and Anakin turned anyway.
> 
> That was really the only goal, at the beginning. We threw some ideas around, and I decided to use the Code Breakers universe, because there were some handy-dandy ready-to-use original characters that I knew I'd find helpful. In particular, Terri's Joma Phrel really doesn't get along with Qui-Gon Jinn. She's a useful person to have around sometimes. The orphaned red-haired child, Sionnach (which, yes, it means "fox" in Gaelic -- Terri named her, and it had nothing to do with me), is good to have around to explain things to, and there's the added challenge of not making her a Precious Kidfic Darling. In general, the whole project has been an exercise in taking one or two steps from canon, moving forward for a bit, and then stepping back in line.
> 
> The title, _Missa Discriminis_, translates to English as "Critical Mass" -- I don't normally go in for puns, but I decided to consider this one a double meaning and let it go. :-) Each of the chapters has a title taken from the Requiem Mass, so the whole thing is a Mass _about_ critical mass, I suppose.
> 
> I completed the first arc in January of 2001. My plan has been to have three arcs, ultimately, finishing up at the same time as _Return of the Jedi_ ends. This is proving to be somewhat difficult, but there are plot-milestones in my head -- I haven't put this thing to rest yet.
> 
> For most of the original characters, I have good ideas of what they look like but no specific people in mind to play them. I can report, however, that Jendea Ral is played by Ms. Vanessa Redgrave. :-)


End file.
